


Aerials

by Trumpeteer34



Series: Wing!Fic AU [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, Developing Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Hulkeye - Freeform, M/M, Pre-Slash, Wingfic, Wings, bird traits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 03:52:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trumpeteer34/pseuds/Trumpeteer34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Wing!fic - Clint's arms turn into wings.</p><p>On a whim, Clint decides to show his affection to an unknowing Bruce Banner the best way he knows how.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aerials

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the named characters present. They belong to Marvel. This was written purely for fun.

It had been several weeks since Bruce had helped Clint when he had been stuck in wing-form. The physicist had assisted the archer without prompting or comment, for which Clint had been extremely thankful. Since then, the pair had been spending more and more time together, and it was really, really nice. 

There had been a small pang of sadness that had gone through the archer when Bruce had looked honestly surprised by Clint’s sudden attention, but the scientist had welcomed the archer’s company with open arms. They hung out together a great deal since then. Clint would visit the other man in the labs, and Bruce would watch Clint in the target range.

Clint felt iffy about asking Bruce to preen his wings again; as amazing as it had felt (and good _God,_ had it felt amazing), it just didn’t seem like the sort of thing that _friends_ did together. He would still go to Bruce when his wings were stiff or sore, and Bruce would always smile and do the whole preening/grooming/massaging thing again without a word of complaint. The more it happened, the more Clint had to fight from asking for more of it. It was physically painful _not_ to approach the physicist more often, but it felt weird. 

He was starting to feel weird in general around Bruce, but it was the good kind of weird…the kind that made his stomach flip and sent a rushing feeling through him, like he was flying. He didn’t know how to explain it, but he liked the heady feeling and had started to crave it almost as much as he craved for the feel of Bruce’s hands on him again.

==

It had been a quiet two weeks. There had been no calls to action, and they’ve only had a few team practices. The Avengers had just finished up their group breakfast, and Clint found himself staring out the window. It was a gorgeous day, not a cloud in the morning sky. Winter had finally ended, and it was starting to warm up again at long last. Spring was just around the corner.

Clint suddenly decided that he needed to stretch his wings. He felt like he had been cooped up for way too long inside and he yearned to be in the air again.

As the rest of the team left the room, he turned to Bruce, who was still sitting next to him at the kitchen table. “Anything pressing down in the labs?” he asked the other man.

Bruce glanced over at him with a small smile and shook his head. “Not really,” he answered with an easy shrug. “I just have some reading to do.”

The archer grinned. “Wanna do it outside?”

The physicist’s eyes moved to the nearby window as he gauged the weather. “Sure,” he replied.

After springing eagerly to his feet, Clint led the other man toward the door to the balcony. It led to Iron Man’s landing strip, so there was plenty of walking room. There was still a brisk chill in the air, but it would warm up as the day progressed. 

As Bruce settled in with his science journal (“light reading?” Clint had quipped. Bruce’s answering smile had done funny things to his stomach.), Clint pulled off his hoodie. He was wearing a dark muscle shirt, so there wasn’t any fabric to get in the way of his wings. As he stretched his bare arms out, he took a deep breath of the air. 

Before long, Clint was up in the air, riding thermals until he was soaring high over Manhattan.

The archer flapped a little higher before he started hovering lazy circles around the tower, relishing the wind in his feathers and the warm sun on his face. His sharp eyes surveyed the streets below, but time and time again, he kept finding that his eyes always returned to Bruce.

The physicist was engrossed in his reading, glasses perched on the end of his nose and posture relaxed. He had dragged one of the lawn chairs out of the shade and into the sunlight, allowing the light to keep him warm. At some point, he had pushed his sleeves to his elbows, revealing the dark hair that lined his arms.

Bruce must have felt he was being watched, for he suddenly broke away from his journal and squinted up at Clint. The man’s eyesight wasn’t nearly as good as Clint’s, so he probably didn’t see the blinding grin that crossed the archer’s face.

He continued to stare as Bruce glanced at his watch. The physicist then carefully closed his book, making sure to mark his page, before he pulled himself to his feet and headed to the door. Had the man not left behind his book and glasses, Clint would have frowned.

By the time he had circled the building again, Bruce was back. The physicist was standing with a water bottle in one hand, the other in his pocket. His face was upturned, eyes lifted to the sky. When he spotted Clint, he smiled and waggled the bottle.

Clint grinned and moved to descend, but immediately paused. An idea struck him, and his stomach flipped giddily. He smiled, full and bright, and then looked back down at Bruce, who was still watching him from the balcony with a content smile on his face.

With another grin, Clint turned sharply in the air and dove straight at Bruce, shooting along at break-neck speeds. Before they collided, he veered off and pulled up, slowing down with a great gust from his massive wings. As he landed, he glanced over his shoulder and tried to stifle a grin. Bruce looked a little startled, but he was grinning a little, too.

“What was that?” Bruce asked with a laugh.

Clint grinned at the other man as his wings swiftly reverted back into his arms. “Oh, y’know,” he deflected with a shrug, “just felt the urge.”

Bruce didn’t question it, but he smiled and handed over the bottle of water. “You’ve been up there for almost two hours.”

After he offered his thanks, Clint took a hearty swig from the bottle. “I’ve been cooped up for way too long,” he replied easily. He smiled and took another drink. “Thanks!”

Before Bruce could say more, Clint dropped the bottle and sprinted to the edge of the balcony. His arms rapidly changed, and he dove off the building. 

The wind rushed over him as he let himself fall, grinning like a maniac the entire time, before he changed the angle of his wings and started looping around the building. A few mighty beats of his wings sent him skyward again, and he flew by the balcony at a rapid speed. 

A quick glance back revealed that Bruce was still watching him, looking equal parts concerned and amused. That weird feeling returned to his stomach. Clint smirked to himself and then started a series of aerials that put a delicious burn through his muscles and a wonderful feeling of elation through him.

He caught a momentary second of some other expression on Bruce’s face, but it disappeared far too quickly for the archer to analyze. 

==

Much to Clint’s annoyance, there came a call to assemble around noon that day. Normally, the archer would have been excited for a chance to see some action, but today it irritated him. He was in the _middle_ of something, something _really_ important!

And he had been interrupted for one of the most ridiculous battles he had ever assisted in.

Crawling all over the city was some hybrid reptile/insect… _things._ While these creatures were fairly breakable and easily killed, there were hundreds of them. Some nut had released them into the city, spouting the normal monologue about world domination. Natasha had easily knocked out said nut, and the Avengers were left wrangling with the rest of the nasty creatures infesting Manhattan.

Clint was flying from building to building, offering an overhead view of the situation while in the air. He would then perch on a roof and quickly transform back so he could handle his bow. Since he was still pissed off about being interrupted, he barely listened to Stark’s voice over the radio frequency, complaining about being bored and his name not being _Iron Exterminator._

He was holding back a chuckle as Steve started telling Tony off, but was distracted when he spotted the Hulk down below. The big guy was effortlessly taking out the creatures and getting himself covered in a really nasty looking gunk, but he seemed perfectly happy to be out and smashing.

Clint grinned to himself, suddenly feeling better. He shouldn’t let such a mediocre fight interrupt him! He could continue was he had been doing while fighting, no sweat. 

He quickly fired an arrow at the thing Hulk was about to destroy.

As the Hulk looked up with a grumble, Clint was already in the air and diving down toward the goliath. At the last second, he swerved off and moved on to the next building. Once he landed, he turned to see the Hulk eyeing him curiously in between smashing the hybrids. 

The archer smiled; that same feeling from earlier that morning came back to him.

Each time he needed to get to a different building after that, he made sure to swoop by the Hulk on his way there. He would then expertly loop in the air and land on the next building. He snuck peeks down at the Hulk each time and smirked, pleased to see the Hulk’s eyes on him.

Hours later— _hours_ —they killed off the final creature, and the battle was _finally_ over. It was well into the evening by the time they had finished. Steve asked Clint to do one last circle around the warzone just to ensure that they got all of the hybrids before they all reconvened. 

Clint landed easily and without flair next to Natasha. There was a steady burn in his arms now, and he knew immediately that he’d be sore as all hell tomorrow. Despite that and the fatigue that was starting to catch up with him, though, he felt really good. 

The others looked just as tired as he felt. He grinned at the quirked brow the redheaded assassin sent him before he started to look around for the Hulk. 

He heard the steady thumping of the big guy’s massive feet and followed that. By the time he reached the goliath, he caught the tail-end of the transformation. Bruce wasn’t unconscious, but it was a near thing. He was shivering on the ground as his muscles deflated back to normal and the last of the green vanished.

The archer approached the panting man, trying not to wrinkle his nose at the stench of the hybrid guts that covered most of Bruce’s bare skin. He watched the man’s eyes slowly blink open as he was catching his breath.

When Bruce’s eyes found Clint, an exhausted smile crossed his face. “Nice flyin’,” he slurred groggily. 

Despite the roughness and hoarseness of his voice, Clint heard a hint of fondness in the words, and smiled.

==

After spending a good hour and a half cleaning up in the tower (seriously, those things were _gross_ ), the team came together on the communal floor for their customary after-battle movie and meal. Debriefing was scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, for which they were all grateful. It hasn’t been a particularly difficult battle, but it had been _long._ They were all wiped out.

They tore into the pizzas Tony had ordered and started the movie, but when Bruce had finished eating, he excused himself to go pass out in his room for the next several hours. Tony decried of Bruce’s betrayal for leaving him behind, and Bruce just smiled indulgently at the engineer. Before he left, though, Bruce’s eyes locked with Clint’s for a lingering moment, long enough to make the archer’s belly flip anxiously.

Clint watched the physicist leave as everyone else got back to the film, feeling all kinds of conflicted. Once Bruce disappeared behind the elevator doors, he turned back around and realized Natasha was staring at him. 

When their eyes met, she quirked an eyebrow at him. He returned the gesture, and she pointedly glanced at the elevator, and then back at him. At her expectant stare, Clint realized that she had already caught on to what he felt toward Bruce. He fought off a flush and forced his eyes to return to the screen. After about a minute, he felt Natasha do the same.

But he couldn’t concentrate on the movie. He sat rigidly for less than three minutes before he stood up. He didn’t offer any excuses as he left the room, and the others didn’t expect it. As he was walking, he felt Natasha’s eyes on his back.

Before long, he found himself outside of Bruce’s suite. The door had been left open, and the archer cautiously knocked on the doorframe before entering. The room beyond looked like it did any other time Clint came through here: nearly immaculate, save for the books and notepads littering some of the surfaces. 

He smiled a little at the sight before he made his way back toward the bedroom, finding that door standing ajar. After taking a deep breath, he rapped lightly against the door and pushed it open.

He found Bruce lying on his side on the massive bed, curled up under the blankets and on the edge of sleep. The physicist’s eyes opened and he peered drowsily across the room, easily finding Clint.

The two stared at each other for a lingering moment before Bruce smiled. “You look tuckered out,” he said in a sleepy murmur.

Taking that as an invitation into the room, Clint stepped just inside the doorway and halted there. “I haven’t heard anyone use the phrase _tuckered out_ in a really long time,” he commented with forced casualness.

Bruce yawned into a fist. “Must’ve been all of that showing off in the air today.” A smirk appeared on the man’s face when Clint suddenly colored a little.

“You noticed?” the archer asked, sounding both nervous and hopeful.

The physicist made a noise of affirmation as he nodded. He dragged his hand out from under the blanket and patted the mattress behind him. “You should sleep,” he said.

When Clint didn’t move, Bruce suddenly looked concerned. “…did I read all of this wrong?” he asked, looking mildly frightened and really self-conscious.

“No!” Clint said quickly and probably with too much force, but he absolutely _needed_ to reassure the other man. “No, I…” he cleared his throat and tried to find more to say to fill in the slightly awkward silence.

After another moment of the hush, Bruce smiled again and patted the bed once more. “It _is_ mating season, yes?” When Clint full-on blushed, Bruce chuckled. “You made yourself quite clear, Clint. Even the Other Guy caught on.” He yawned into his hand again. “Now get over here before we both pass out.”

With the red still on his cheeks, Clint grinned wide and crossed the room. He kicked off his boots before he slid carefully onto the bed behind Bruce. He left some space between himself and the warm body next to him; he wanted to move closer, but he refrained.

It made no difference, however, for Bruce rolled over—letting a pained noise escape from his aching and exhausted form—and curled a little closer to Clint. When their eyes met, Clint couldn’t fight the huge smile that appeared on his face.

A smile touched Bruce’s lips and he reached over to lightly run his fingers against Clint’s arm, easily feeling the tense muscles beneath the skin. “We can do another wing massage tomorrow,” he said sleepily as he closed his eyes.

A happy noise made it past Clint’s lips, sounding almost like a chirp, and Bruce laughed softly, sounding almost hysterical with exhaustion. “I knew there was a reason I liked you,” the archer said in response, sleep starting to tug at him. 

He shifted a little closer; he waited for the man to protest, but Bruce already looked half-asleep. The archer smiled at the sight and brought a hand up to run lightly through Bruce’s greying curls. A soft sigh of contentedness escaped from Bruce as he melted under the touch, and he curled a little more toward Clint’s body.

Clint smiled again, and soon found himself falling asleep, feeling happier than he had in years.

**Author's Note:**

> The mating behavior of red-tailed hawks is weird.
> 
> I'm debating on adding a third part to this. What do you all think?


End file.
